


Persistence

by soulcraftandmoral



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: M/M, i was really sad when I wrote this, otp: wait that's my word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-12-22 05:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21069944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulcraftandmoral/pseuds/soulcraftandmoral
Summary: "It’s not fair that we’re asking you to pull it together right now, but I need you to. This country needs you to. Pete needs you to."





	1. Chapter 1

Peter was asleep that morning when Chasten woke up, which was rare these days. Since they moved into the White House, Chasten could count on one hand how many times he had gotten out of bed before Peter. He heard Peter come to bed around 3 last night though. He wasn’t used to being quiet getting ready, and when the phone next to his side of the bed started ringing with his wake-up call, he had to rush to answer it before it could wake his husband.

Peter was still asleep when Chasten was getting ready to leave. He thought about waking him up to tell him goodbye, but changed his mind and decided to let him rest a bit longer. It had been such a hard week for him, and Chasten wasn’t even completely filled in on everything that had happened the last few days. Peter sometimes did this in his new role, in the hopes of keeping Chasten from worrying. He carried the weight of the country on his shoulders and never wanted Chasten to have to help him hold on to it. 

Chasten leaned down and kissed his husband’s cheek before leaving, making sure to shut the door quietly behind him. His suitcases had been packed the night before and were already on the plane, so he really didn’t have anything to do once he made it to the kitchen. Breakfast had been prepared while he was getting ready, but his coffee had been poured into a travel cup, a not-so-subtle hint that his security detail was getting ready to leave. As if on cue, lead agent Jay stepped into the kitchen. “The plane is ready, sir.” Chasten grabbed his coffee, asking if the President had woken up by chance as he was led out. He hated leaving Peter without saying goodbye, even if it was only for a few days to be in Chicago for his new outreach program to kick off. Jay said that he was still asleep and led Chasten to the waiting car.

Melissa was waiting for him as they left the residence. She had signed on as his Chief of Staff at the start of the transition, and she sometimes felt like the only friend Chasten had in DC. He couldn’t go home to see his friends often, and he never seemed to have any time anyway. Other politicians’ spouses had befriended him, but Chasten was warned not to think too deeply into those friendships that would be over as soon as his husband wasn’t running the country. Melissa had nothing to gain by being Chasten’s friend, and she knew when she was a confidante and when she was an employee. Chasten liked her, but he wished the first person to talk to him this morning had been his husband instead. Before they even got into the car, Melissa was running over a list of things he needed to get done on their trip and Chasten didn’t bother stopping her before they made it to Andrews.

The plane took off within ten minutes of Chasten showing up, and he realized that the most he had done this morning was to get himself ready. He hadn’t quite gotten used to this part of Peter’s new job and he mostly felt like he was being shuffled around by staff rather than actually being an active participant in his job. He pushed his window cover open and picked up his book. He’s never been able to sleep on flights, but at least Chicago wasn’t far. 

Chasten was not really engrossed, but forcing himself to be interested in the book he was reading when Melissa suddenly jumped up, walked toward the front of the plane, and then came back. “Sir, we’ll be making a stop in Columbus.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong sir, just a quick stop for now.” She walked away and Chasten could hear her trying to whisper on the phone. Planes don’t make quick stops, and planes carrying the First Gentleman of the United States do not need to stop to refuel halfway through a two hour flight. He picked up his phone. Nothing from Peter, so he texted him to check on him. So much for his chance at sleeping in. 

The plane landed much rougher than usual, as if everyone was trying to get on the ground as quickly as possible. Chasten wasn’t stupid enough to not realize this was an emergency, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have a reaction yet. No one was going to tell him anything. He wasn’t his husband. He didn’t have any sort of security clearance that allowed him to demand anyone on the plane tell him what’s happening. He picked up his phone again. Still nothing from Peter.  _ He’s obviously busy _ , Chasten told himself. He considered checking the news or at least Twitter to see if something had happened, but part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to know yet. Before he could make up his mind about trying to find out online, he saw Jay coming towards him. 

“Sir, we need to get you off the plane. There’s been an incident in Washington. A room has been cleared for us inside. Come with me.” 

Chasten felt like time had stopped and the earth started spinning without him. He was acutely aware of the smallest details suddenly, but could not think about anything at all. He noticed someone, he wasn’t sure who, grabbed his phone and another someone grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his seat. He stepped off of the plane and noticed only one door open leading to the airport and someone on his team was there already. He wasn’t even sure if he was walking or if he was being pushed. At some point he turned to look behind him and noticed how close the plane was to the building...and how there was nothing else around them. What happened?

Someone helped him into a chair and Jay kneeled in front of him saying something that Chasten didn’t hear. No one had told him anything. Did he want them to? Jay picked up Chasten’s hand and physically forced Chasten to hold onto a water bottle. He needed someone to pull him out of the water he was absolutely sure he was drowning in. Why was he the only one drowning?

“Is he okay?” someone asked and Chasten opened his mouth to say that he was fine before he realized he was the one who had asked. If it was this earth-shattering to have no details, Chasten decided he didn’t want to ask for any. He wasn’t sure he could handle anything worse than this feeling. 

No one answered him and instead all looked around at each other. Chasten vaguely realized that perhaps Jay had already told him that Peter was fine when he sat down. His phone went off in Melissa’s hand, pulling Chasten from his haze. “Is that Peter?”

Melissa gave him a sympathetic look and shook her head before turning Chasten’s phone completely off. “Sir, look at me.” Chasten met her eyes. “A bomb went off at St. John’s.”

Chasten apparently looked like he was going to vomit because she stepped back to give him some space. Chasten desperately wanted to puke, or scream, or do anything other than just sit there frozen in place. He did not know how to get out of this space. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He didn’t know what to tell any of the staff around him to do.  _ Peter _ .

For a small second, Chasten wondered if maybe Peter had just decided to stay in bed today. It was such a hassle to get the President to church. Maybe he didn’t go. But then, why would he be in an airport in Columbus instead of Chicago, if nothing had happened to Peter? He wanted to say that this didn’t make any sense, but of course it did. The problem was that the logical conclusion here was that people were dead, and his husband was one of them. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed frozen in time until Jay moved to reach for his own phone. “I have Persistence.” Jay walked away. Chasten was Persistence. Chasten knew where he was; he wanted them to say Pensive. He needed to know where Peter was. He leaned forward and took a deep breath, and it felt like the first one he had taken all day. He wanted to ask for something and he seemed to have a lot of staff standing around him wanting to follow his orders but he had nothing for them. He wanted to get back on the plane. He wanted to go home. He stood up. 

“We need to go back to Washington.” Melissa turned to look at him and Chasten started pacing. “We have to go back, I need to see him.”

“We don’t know who’s responsible yet. We don’t know where they are or if there is another target. We are not putting you in the air until we know it’s safe,” Jay answered before Melissa could even open her mouth.

That was entirely reasonable but Chasten could not be expected to be reasonable right now. “No one is coming after me, I’ve never been a target. I need to see my husband. I need to see him right now. We have to leave.” Chasten’s voice was getting louder, but he couldn’t stop talking. “I didn’t say goodbye, we have to go back. You have to let me call him. You have to let me see him. Jay, what the  _ fuck _ is going on?” None of the questions made any sense anymore and Chasten was lightheaded. He didn’t think he could walk back to the chair he was in, so he just dropped to the ground.  _ Peter _ .

He was crying. He wanted to be as calm and as rational as Peter would be about this but he couldn’t. He was stuck in an airport with his staff who kept stepping away to take calls and making it obvious they didn’t want him to hear what was happening. He was angry, and he was fucking terrified. “Melissa,” he called. She stepped over to him in an instant, but hesitated to sit down on the floor next to him. Once she crouched down, Chasten looked her in the eyes. “I need you to tell me everything I’m allowed to know.”

Melissa looked at him like she wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, and the truth was that he didn’t. Chasten had been fine not knowing anything that Peter didn’t want to tell him. He was always available if Peter needed to vent, but he never asked. It was selfish, but he didn’t like to know. He preferred the ignorance he could keep if he kept his business in the East Wing. Even when they were woken up in the middle of the night by someone asking Peter to come to the Situation Room, Chasten didn’t ask. But he had to know now. He couldn’t sit still and wait.

“It happened just as the services were starting, about 10 minutes before we landed. We don’t have an accurate picture of the damage, but the church is gone. He got there maybe 5 minutes before the bomb went off. Right now there are teams trying to locate everyone and others looking for the suspects and any possible other threats.” 

He immediately picked up on the fact that she didn’t mention his name or what happened to him. “And where is he?” 

She looked like she wanted to throw up, too. “The President hasn’t been located yet. There is a lot of rubble to go through and not a lot of time. They’re doing everything they can. Steve was found, but he did not make it.” Steve was the head of Peter’s Secret Service detail. Chasten wasn’t sure if it was because he now had a face and a name to go along with the concept of people dying, or if it was just confirmation that someone actually  _ had  _ died, but he felt the drowning feeling coming back to him. Melissa pushed the water bottle to him again, and this time he took a sip. She stood back up and put her phone to her ear again, and Chasten was actually grateful that she walked away again. He remembered why he hated knowing that this kind of stuff could happen.

It was silent for a while, and Chasten never moved from his spot on the floor. He wasn’t thinking of anything at all, though he felt like he was obligated to think of the chaos in Washington. He couldn’t do anything about it, and his mind forced it away so he could stare at the floor in front of him and go blank. It was the closest he could get to resting while waiting, and he was grateful for the emptiness. Before long though, Melissa returned, handing him his phone. “It’s Lis,” she said quietly.

“Is he okay?” Chasten had barely taken the phone before he asked.

“He’s been found. I’m at the hospital now, I’m waiting on an update, but I have to tell you the truth. It doesn’t look great.” Chasten opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t find any words. He didn’t need to. Lis kept talking. “Listen, I need you to get here soon. They’re handling the flight now, you’re probably going to leave after we finish talking. I’ll have Matt handle canceling on Chicago but they’ll understand.” 

At this point, Chasten knew Lis enough to hear her emotions seeping through her attempt to handle logistics like a professional. She was being purposely vague, and she’s always been upfront and honest with them. She knew something that Chasten didn’t, and he considered demanding she tell him before he realized maybe he wasn’t ready to know. And judging by her tone, maybe she wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

“Do you know who did it?” 

She sighed, frustrated. Lis had always hated the waiting period before information comes out. She wanted to plan, and she couldn’t plan anything while waiting in a hospital. Waiting to know who is responsible. Waiting to know who lives. “I don’t know yet. I’m getting constant updates but they haven’t fucking figured anything out. Waste of taxpayer money, if you ask me.”

“Lis, I’m not ready to go back and face this.” He didn’t even realize he had said it until he couldn’t take it back. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Lis sighed again, and he could hear her voice shake even then. “I know you’re not ready. No one can be ready for this. I know this is unfair and this fucking sucks and we don’t know what’s going to happen next, but the country needs you here. And when you get here, I am going to get you through this, okay? I’m not going to let you out of my sight, I’m going to make sure you’re standing so you don’t have to think about it. When you get here, I’m going to make sure you can see him. And then you’re going to have to help us all get through something really fucking difficult because unfortunately it’s in your job description. And then when it’s over, we’re going to go sit in his hospital room and I’m going to bring booze and we’re going to break down over this together. It’s not fair that we’re asking you to pull it together right now, but I need you to. This country needs you to. Pete needs you to.”

He wanted to say something strong, he wanted to say something worthy of the office he works out of everyday, but all he could say was, “I didn’t tell him goodbye this morning. He was asleep and I didn’t say goodbye.”

“Your first stop is here, Chasten. You can say what you need to.”  _ You can say goodbye _ , he realized she was implying but would never say. They didn’t know yet. But just in case.

It was quiet getting back on the plane, and Chasten wished it wasn’t. He wished someone would say  _ something _ to cut the tension. If Peter was just his husband, his friends would have something comforting to say. They would find some words that could make him feel like he might get through this. But Peter wasn’t just his husband. Peter was the President of the United States, which meant this didn’t just hurt Chasten. This didn’t upend just his life. Millions of people were checking the news and social media, waiting to see what had just happened to their country. The other people on this plane were preparing Chasten and preparing the rest of the country for a potentially world-changing moment, but they were also citizens who wished they could simply watch this tragedy play out instead. They were going through the motions of people who had clearly been trained on what to do in these kinds of circumstances while trying to process that something like this could actually happen. Peter wasn’t just Chasten’s husband. Peter wasn’t even just a man in a position of power. Peter was a symbol. Of America. Of strength. Of freedom. Of life, even. 

Chasten was a symbol, too. He knew that. He’d read the books. He’d learned all about how those who occupied the East Wing before him made their impacts. He read about how Michelle Obama and Barbara Bush and Hillary Clinton consoled the country and put their own pain to the side. When he moved into the White House, he had met with (almost) every single woman who had his role before him, who could tell him almost everything he needed to know. He was prepared to do what they had done, prepared to talk to victims of violence and suffering. What he was not prepared to do was to get off the plane with people and cameras watching and hold it together while he was on his way to find out if his husband was alive. He was not prepared to ever leave that hospital alone. 

The flight was quick, and Jay was making sure there was a direct path to the motorcade before Chasten could get off the plane. As soon as the door opened, though, he could hear people shouting. He wanted to scream too. Melissa looked over at him and started to say something, but Chasten took a deep breath and stood up. He tried to force his features into some sort of stony expression, something that didn’t look heartbroken enough to make everyone who saw him think the President was gone and soft enough that maybe they would remember he was still a person.

He was off the plane and in his car so quickly that he didn’t have time to even notice the crowd reaction. He exhaled as soon as the door shut behind Melissa, and they were immediately on their way. He came to the realization that this was actually happening now, and he suddenly wished he was back in the airport that was safe from reporters and hospitals and inevitabilities. His motorcade usually had to obey traffic lights, but they had a police escort this time so the drive that should have taken 45 minutes ended up only taking about 20. 

Lis was waiting and started talking as soon as he walked in. He noticed, somewhat impressed, that she was still wearing heels. “Alright so he’s going to need surgery and that’s happening soon. Right now he’s not stable enough. I made sure you can go back there, but you can’t stay long. He’s not awake, but I promised this before I make you do all this shit you don’t want to do today.”

God bless Lis Smith, because Chasten actually managed an attempt at a smile at that. She was trying to make this sound as normal as possible, which meant the world to him. On a day where the entire world is crumbling around him and no one has a solution, Lis managed to make it sound like they were back on the campaign trail, dealing with interview questions he didn’t really like. He didn’t miss that even though she was standing tall and barking orders at everyone around her and pretending like everything was normal, her eyes were red. They were both just doing their best, and if she can get through today, so can he. 

A nurse led Chasten to Peter’s room, and Chasten tried hard to listen to her explain the damage done by the shrapnel but that he still wasn’t stable enough for surgery and how this will probably be the first of many surgeries and how the first night is the most dangerous, but it wasn’t all sinking in completely. A doctor had already told Lis this before, because doctor-patient confidentiality isn’t quite as tight when you’re the President of the United States and your Chief of Staff needs to know what’s going on. As they reached the door to Peter’s room, he turned to her. “If he wasn’t the President, would you have mentioned that he might not make it?” He tried to make the question sound gentle, but she seemed to be talking about recovery in a way that sounded separate from the surgeries she just described to him.

She considered her answer for a minute. “No. I don’t think I would tell anyone’s loved one that they should prepare for the worst outcome yet. I’d like to think we would always wait to discuss something so devastating until there are fewer options to work with. I’ll be honest that there are too many uncertainties right now. But we will tell you the truth, I promise.”

The Secret Service agent stationed outside Peter’s room stepped aside, and Chasten took a deep breath. Before Chasten became the First Gentleman, he had visited family members in hospitals, and once they moved to DC, he was often brought to visit patients from school shootings and war. Their rooms were usually full of flowers and cards and love, but this room was bare. This room wasn’t meant for patients’ loved ones to see, with its empty walls and extra medical equipment. There wasn’t a rolling table with a cup for ice chips or even a chair to pull up next to the bed. There was just Peter, surrounded by wires and machines. 

He wanted so badly not to recognize him, he realized. He wanted to be shocked, to have a brief second to wonder if there was a mistake. He wanted him to look so different from normal that Chasten wouldn’t have to worry about seeing this version of him again. But this was his Peter. He stepped over to the bed and suddenly was afraid to touch him, angry at himself for not listening to the nurse’s description of his injuries better. He settled for laying his hand over Peter’s instead of holding onto him as tightly as he could. He thought about what he wanted to say. 

He was in here to say goodbye, and he knew that. But he couldn’t. He knew there was a chance this would be the last time he saw Peter, but it felt so unfair to tell him that he knew that. It felt too much like giving up, and Chasten didn’t want to give up until Peter did. So he was quiet. He stood next to his husband in this empty hospital room and traced the veins on his hand. He memorized his face, bruised as it was, just in case. And when the nurse quietly stepped in to tell him he had to go, Chasten leaned down, kissed his husband’s cheek, and whispered, “I will be okay, and you will be strong.”

Jay was waiting for him when he left Peter’s room and escorted him to a private waiting room. Lis was on the phone but as he sat down next to her, she reached over and gave his hand a firm squeeze. When she got off the phone, Chasten spoke first. “I have to call Anne. And my parents.” Anne moved to DC when they did, wanting to help them get settled and begin a family. She must be worried sick, she had probably been asleep still when this all started.

Lis pursed her lips. “I already did, while you were still on the plane. I know you’ll be mad, but I couldn’t let them worry while neither of you could be reached. Anne called first. She’ll be brought here once the roads are clear. Everything is locked down near the White House and the Capitol.”

“Should I assume Anne will get here at the same time as the Vice President?” Chasten leaned just head against the wall and closed his eyes. He didn’t realize he even knew this was going to have to happen until he said it himself. But of course, the country couldn’t go on without a president, no matter what happens in that operating room. 

Lis squeezed his hand again, and instead of answering his question directly, she said quietly, “I promised I am going to get you through it.”

“And then booze and a mental breakdown?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

Chasten smiled slightly, which surprised him. He didn’t know how Lis had the strength to retain her personality at a time like this, but he was grateful. He was going to need to borrow some of it.

Her phone was noticeably quiet for the next hour, and Chasten knew that she had pushed things off onto other people in order to keep him from hearing details he wasn’t ready for. She still checked her emails and texts the entire time, but at least it was quiet. 

Anne broke the silence when she finally got to the hospital, immediately pulling Chasten into a hug. He held onto her tightly but didn’t speak, knowing he couldn’t cry right now. Her eyes were red when she pulled back, but he had no words to comfort her. He opened his mouth to speak, and then he closed it again. What could he tell her that she didn’t already know?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to, because Vice President Elizabeth Warren was escorted in and suddenly the room was chaos. Lis grabbed onto Chasten and pulled him into a nearby restroom, shutting the door as he spotted a few reporters and a ton of cameras. “What’s happening?” He whispered. 

Lis was visibly angry. “I told those fucking assholes to wait until I’d talked to you and gotten you out of the room, they told me she wasn’t going to get here until later. I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath and straightened up, and Chasten felt himself straighten as well. “We do not know who is behind this yet, but we can assume they’re watching. We have to make it known that the United States has not fallen because of them, and Pete being in surgery isn’t really a show of strength. Elizabeth was going to have to be sworn in anyway while he is unable to perform his duties, but we’re going to do it publicly and let those bastards think what they want to think about what it means for the President.”

Chasten wasn’t aware he was shaking, but Lis was. She reached for him but he stopped her, stepping back. “Are you preparing for my husband to die?” He was louder than he meant to be, and his voice echoed in the small bathroom.

“I’m preparing for everything, Chasten. That is my job!” Lis was whispering, but she was angry, and so was he. He thought she was going to get him through this, but they don’t even know what will happen next and she’s replacing the fucking curtains in the Oval. 

“You don’t get to do this yet, we don’t know what’s happening. You don’t get to act like he’s dead already.”

“Chasten, we were going to have to do this as a formality anyway. We have to have a President and no matter the circumstances, he isn’t fit to lead while he’s in fucking surgery. Bush had to do it for a fucking colonoscopy.”

“Making it a TV event means everyone will think he’s dead!”

“Making it a TV event means everyone will know America isn’t in shambles.”

“We should be in shambles! My husband is dying! We are not moving on from this, someone killed him!” Lis flinched, and Chasten realized what he said. He was too angry to stop talking, though. “You don’t get to hide him and pretend that everything is fine while changing the name on the Resolute desk. It’s been hours, have you already packed our stuff? Are you sending me back to Indiana until we find out if my husband has been assassinated?” He was being cruel, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was angry. He was  _ furious _ . How dare she betray him, betray Peter? 

“They need to see what they have done to him. What they have done to me. We are not making a spectacle of promoting the Vice President while hiding Peter and me. This is the end of my world and I want people to see what they have done to me.” Chasten finally looked up at Lis, and felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Because Lis Smith, impenetrable and fearless Lis, was crying. 

He reached out to her immediately, pulling her into a hug. He’d never seen her cry, he’d never seen her even  _ sad _ , and he didn’t like it - he hated himself for making her that way. She had gotten them to the very top, handling every problem that came her way like a champion. She didn’t even want this job, Peter basically had to beg her to take it. Who is he to criticize her for being good at it, for making the tough calls that no one, especially not him, wants to? “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“I am trying to do what Pete would be telling us to do. I’m not trying to hide you, I have to keep America held together and I have to keep myself held together and I really fucking want to keep you held together, and right now this is what has to happen. It’s not fair and I’m sorry, we’re all sorry. He doesn’t deserve this, none of us deserve this.” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” It was confusing how quickly his emotions shifted, but he isn’t exactly surprised at how little control he has over them at this point. 

She pulled away from him, smiled a small smile and walked to the sink, reaching for a paper towel to dry her face. She wouldn’t look at him. She reached for another paper towel and used it to fix her smeared makeup. Chasten stood near the door and watched Lis literally pull herself together right in front of him. She stood up taller, pulled her hair from behind her ear, and took several deep breaths. Her eyes seemed to harden and lose every bit of sadness, tears drying up as quickly as they came. She finally turned and said “Do you want to stay in here or do you want me to find another room for you while we do this?” and her voice didn’t sound like she had cried at all. Chasten didn’t know how she did it. 

“No.” She looked back, clearly frustrated and at the end of her patience. “I meant it, I want them to see what they’ve done to me. I want to be out there.”

Her eyes widened. She cleared her throat. She bit her lip. Finally, she said, “Okay. If you want to play Jackie, you damn well better hold it together the way she did.”

He shook his arms out a little and straightened up, nodding as she reached to open the door. She paused once more, “As a reminder, we are not saying anything conclusive about his health yet. Not until we know more. Be vague.” This felt like her quick media training from the campaign, giving him enough to go off of but still letting him choose his own words. He nodded again, and she opened the door.

There were cameras everywhere. There were people filling up the tiny waiting room and standing outside, trying to look over everyone else to see in. Elizabeth was hard to even see, completely surrounded by aides telling her what needed to happen next. The room seemed to get quiet as Chasten stepped out, but he wasn’t sure if he was imagining that. He stepped toward her before he’d thought of what he’d say. “Elizabeth, it’s good to see you,” was what he said, falling back on pleasantries he was used to. He grimaced after saying it, as if any of this was good.

Elizabeth reached for his hand in what he thought was a handshake, but she clasped his in both of hers and squeezed firmly before pulling him into an almost motherly hug. “I am so sorry for what you’re going through. I know you’d rather be anywhere else but here right now, but please let me know if I can do anything to make this easier for you.”

Chasten smiled slightly, but genuinely, and nodded his thanks. “Thank you for stepping up, Peter would be so grateful to know the country is in good hands after such a tragic day. You’ve always been such a good friend to my family. It means the world to me that you’re here and I’m glad that I can be here to show you my support.” He wasn’t sure where that came from, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Lis’ eyes widen, and the cameras moved closer so he’s pretty sure he did a good job with it. 

A woman walked up to them holding a Bible, and Chasten took a deep breath. “Chasten, this is Chief Judge Beryl Howell. She’s helping us out today.” Elizabeth sounded like Chasten’s mother, and he couldn’t tell if he was offended by that or not.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he shook her hand politely and stepped back, signaling that he’s ready for them to get started before she could offer condolences or something. The room got quiet.

“Is everyone ready?” Elizabeth asked, and Lis looked around the room before nodding for them to start. 

“Vice President Warren, please raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

Chasten’s world was falling apart.  _ Peter _ .


	2. Chapter 2

Chasten wasn’t sure if being in a room with an unconscious person counts as alone. He hadn’t slept yet, though his staff kept trying to convince him to use the pull out couch that had been brought into Peter’s room for him. They were juggling the transition of power, trying to have interns follow instructions given from emails and texts sent from a waiting room and getting Acting President Warren’s small staff familiar with their new roles. Eventually, Chasten had to tell most of them to go home to their families and get some rest. Melissa refused, telling him that she would stay as long as he would. He wasn’t sure if she was being his Chief of Staff or his friend, but he was incredibly grateful for her. As much as he wanted to be alone, he wasn’t ready to admit that being alone absolutely terrified him. He hadn’t had to think much all day, and he wasn’t sure what would happen when he had time to sit by himself with his thoughts. 

Peter was being monitored closely, and it felt like everyone in Washington was holding their breath to see if the President was going to wake up. The doctors sat Chasten down a few hours ago to explain everything that happened in surgery, how it was successful but that this was now in fate’s hands. “It’s up to the President,” the doctor told him before leaving, and Chasten hated that. He refused to even process that statement, the idea that if his husband didn’t wake up it would simply because he didn’t want to. Was that supposed to be comforting?

A cup was placed in Chasten’s hands, and he looked up to see Melissa. “It’s tea, decaf,” she smiled. “You should try and sleep.”

“I’m not tired.” He was. He was exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t help him. He felt numb, he didn’t have it in him to be scared or sad or angry. God, he wanted to be angry. Angry at the person who did this, angry at Peter for going to church, angry at himself for agreeing to the campaign. But he couldn’t be, because he knew Peter wouldn’t have changed any of his choices even if he knew this was the outcome. Chasten felt like he needed to handle this like Peter would, being strong and proud in tragedy. But he didn’t have any strength left; he was so, so incredibly empty. “Please go home to your husband, Melissa.”

“He understands. I want to be here.”

“This could be you or him tomorrow, do you get that?” Oh, as it turns out, Chasten  _ did  _ have a little anger left. He knew as soon as he said it that he was being completely irrational, and opened his mouth to apologize.

“Chasten’s right. You should go home. No one at home is waiting for me, so I’ll stay here and keep him company.” Lis was supposed to be at the White House, but of course she came back. She would never be far; she never left them alone for long if she could help it. Melissa squeezed Chasten’s hand and stood up, glancing over at Peter still motionless on the bed before telling him that she’d be back in the morning.

Lis sat down in Melissa’s place. She had a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, and Chasten tried to make a joke about how he was sure it wasn’t decaf, but he couldn’t get the words out. He looked at her helplessly. 

She started pulling things out of her bag, and Chasten was a little surprised at how much she managed to fit in there. “I don’t exactly know what you need, so I brought some things. I brought whiskey. Wine. Beer. And some books. I brought a jacket from Pete’s closet. I brought headphones. And I have this little thing that Mamo said I can plug into the TV in here and watch Netflix.”

Chasten reached out for the Firestick and smiled. “Remember when they put these in our hotel rooms during the campaign?”

Lis looked genuinely shocked for a second. “Our TVs already had Netflix. I don’t know what this is.” Chasten pulled her bag closer and looked around before pulling out the remote and showing it to her, watching the realization come to her. “Oh. When did they do that? Who?”

“I’m not sure who, but I commented once that they didn’t have a good TV in one of the first stops of the campaign and suddenly they started having them in every room. I thought we were just getting lucky until I saw Emily grab it on the way out once.”

“Huh. They really kept us functioning most of the time. I miss them, White House assistants take too long to figure shit out. This is why you shouldn’t hire politicians’ kids for every fucking job.”

Chasten laughed, and though it was small, it was genuine. He took the bottle of wine from Lis and took a sip, before letting the silence come back over the small room. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, both of them looking in front of them but seeing nothing. Finally, Chasten heard himself say, “What if he dies, Lis?”

She didn’t answer right away. In fact, if she hadn’t flinched slightly when he spoke, Chasten would have thought she didn’t hear him. “I don’t know,” she finally whispered. 

Chasten reached over for her hand and she squeezed his. Lis had been there for years, and it felt like he was watching every single minute flash in front of her eyes. She glanced at him, took a sip of her beer, and then pointedly looked away from him. “We talked about it once.”

“You what?”

“In Iowa. After that stunt that homophobe pulled where he dressed like Jesus. Were you there for that?” Chasten shook his head. He didn’t remember where he was, but he remembered Peter telling him about it. “He told me he was scared that it would get worse. He updated his will that night, I think.”

This wasn’t how Chasten remembered it. He talked to Peter about it when it happened, and Peter made jokes about the protesters. Chasten remembered being much more worried about it than his husband was. Why didn’t he tell him?

Lis saw the question in his eyes and said, “He didn’t want you to know he was scared. You were already so worried back then. He said this was too important for him to back out because of fear. Knight in shining armor. That idiot.”

Chasten tried to laugh at her comment but he wanted her to keep talking. He looked at her expectantly, but she still hadn’t turned away from looking at Peter.

“He wouldn’t trade any of this, you know. He knows you will be okay no matter what happens, and he knew it then.”

“I won’t be.” Chasten felt himself anger, the same way it felt when the doctor told him Peter would wake up if he wanted to. “He knows me better than to think I could handle literally any of this, that I could handle ever walking back into that house without him.”

Lis finally turned to Chasten. “Pete thinks you are the bravest person in the world, Chasten. You can’t convince him otherwise. That’s why he trusts you to be his partner in all of this. He wouldn’t have subjected you to this world if he didn’t think you couldn’t get through it, with or without him.” 

Chasten didn’t answer for a few minutes. He leaned back and looked at his husband and thought about...everything. He thought about how Peter found him, lost in a dark, unsafe place. He pulled him out, made Chasten whole, made Chasten believe that love didn’t have to hurt and that life could be happy without there being a catch. Peter was the first man that Chasten didn’t have to fear, but instead had to worry about losing. And Peter wasn’t scared of anything. Not in the way Chasten was, not in the all-consuming way that made Chasten want to go home and never step outside again, never be vulnerable again. Peter wrote wills and goodbye letters because there were logistics he had to take care of, not because he was scared. Peter was comfortable with the idea that his time to go would come no matter what he did to try and stop it. He lived with the passion of a man on borrowed time, choosing to make as much of a difference as possible. Chasten could never understand that about him, how he could be so at peace with leaving his mortality up to fate. But as Chasten stared at his husband, potentially dying in front of him, he realized there was nothing he could think of that Peter would regret about his life. There would be plenty of things Peter would have wanted to do, of course, because his dreams were always bigger than reality. But Peter lived in such an intentional way that if his time came at any moment, he would be ready. He would regret nothing, and wherever he would go after...he would be at peace. And part of the reason he would be at peace was that Chasten was stronger than he was when Peter found him, and he would be able to trust him with his legacy. So Chasten couldn’t prove him wrong.

“You won’t leave, right?” Chasten asked Lis. She was Peter’s person, but she was family at this point and Chasten wasn’t ready to lose any more of his family.

Lis pulled him into a hug, completely out of character for her, and whispered in his ear. “I am not going  _ anywhere _ . I would never. I love you both so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t answer, because he couldn’t find anything to say anymore. He was out of words, and he was tired. A nurse came by to check on Peter a few minutes later, and she turned the lights off as she walked back out. Chasten didn’t realize Lis had fallen asleep, drink still in her hand. He gently took the beer from her and set it on the floor before grabbing Peter’s jacket and leaning back to use it as a blanket. The hospital staff had brought him pillows and blankets, but just as he was deciding to get them, Lis shifted and rested her head on his shoulder, so Chasten decided to stay put. No matter how this ended, Lis would probably not get any sleep for a while. They both needed the rest. 

  
  


It had been six days. Chasten had been forced out of the hospital by Lis and his staff, required to shower and sleep, at least twice. Elizabeth had been surprised when Chasten called her, two days after the bombing, to ask her if she wanted him to move their things out of the White House. “Absolutely not. That is your home. This is a temporary job,” she told him, and Chasten had been grateful that she still pretended to have any hope. Lis had taken over talking to the doctors, because Chasten could only half listen and then wasn’t able to repeat it back to any of Peter’s staff who needed to know. He was a shell of a person, only eating and drinking and sleeping when told to. He was never alone, and he didn’t know if he wanted to be. He had barely spoken at all, which showed in the crack of his voice when he was finally forced to. Every hour that passed without Peter waking up seemed to break off another piece of Chasten’s soul. 

Lis slept at the hospital with him every single night. She usually fell asleep while reading through briefs, which was normal for her and Chasten found it sad to realize that this was probably how she fell asleep most nights, and that sleeping in a hospital room was less lonely for her. Is that how his life would be from now on? She seemed happier with that than he thought he would be. 

Twice, Melissa had forced him to spend the majority of the night at the residence, insisting that he needed to sleep on a bed instead of a chair. He fought her the first time, but he humored her the second time because it was easier to let people take care of him than to try to himself. Tonight, he didn’t even attempt an argument about it. He leaned down and kissed Peter’s forehead and followed Secret Service to the car. He actually thought he could fall asleep in the car, and he quietly did the math and realized he hadn’t slept in two days. He also realized he hadn’t called any of his or Peter’s family, but as he pulled his phone out to do just that, he couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to talk to  _ less _ , so he put his phone back in his pocket and decided to try again tomorrow. 

Sleeping alone wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be the first time. He was used to it, and had been doing it since they started campaigning. Most nights Peter would come to bed after him, and had been doing that since the inauguration. Waking up alone was still hard, and Chasten thought that if he had any tears left, that would be when he used them. 

The phone was ringing when he woke up, and he reached for the landline on the bedside table before he realized it was his cell phone, not his alarm. He answered and cleared his throat before trying to say hello, which gave him just enough time to realize Lis was crying. He sat up. “What happened?” he almost shouted, pushing the blankets away and reaching for his glasses. He couldn’t understand her; he’d never heard her like this before. “Lis, calm down. Take a few breaths. Tell me what happened.”

He heard her trying to slow her breathing down and tightened his grip on his phone, shocked at how calm he seemed to be while waiting to hear earth-shattering news. His patience could only handle so much, so before she was fully calm he said, voice breaking, “tell me what happened.”

“He’s awake. Please come.”

Chasten dropped the phone, throwing on some sweatpants before yanking the bedroom door open and telling someone, he wasn’t sure and didn’t care who, to have a car ready in five minutes. He was sure they knew or would know soon, and he didn’t wait to tell anyone. He rushed through getting shoes on and brushing his teeth, pulling on a hoodie as he walked back out of the room and toward the stairs.

On the way, his emotions were everywhere. He had absolutely no details because he hung up the phone before Lis could give them to him. He was so angry that he had listened when they told him to leave his place next to Peter. He was so, so relieved he could have screamed. He wanted to tell everyone. He wanted to tell no one. He sort of thought he was going to puke.  _ Peter _ .

The car wasn’t in park before Chasten jumped out, rushing into the same secluded entrance he’d gone into every day for almost a week. He had the path to Peter’s room memorized so well he could get there blindfolded, which was good since the adrenaline made him feel like his senses weren’t working correctly. 

Lis was standing outside the room when he got there. “Wait,” she grabbed him as he walked past her and if he didn’t love her so fucking much, he would have pushed her away. “They’re almost done. Just give them a minute. The...tubes and stuff.” She waved her hand as if that was an explanation, and maybe she was just as overwhelmed as Chasten was. 

After what felt like hours, but in reality was probably ten minutes, the door opened. Peter’s nurse walked out and told them she would be going to call the doctor, but that Chasten could go see him. He didn’t hear anything else.

Peter was looking around the room as if he’d never seen a hospital room before, but he turned to see Chasten as he walked in. Chasten thought his husband had never looked so goddamn radiant. That’s not entirely true, as Peter still looked like every single breath hurt, but he looked alive, and that meant everything. 

“ _ Peter _ ,” Chasten whispered, rushing forward and then stopping before reaching out. He was so fragile, Chasten didn’t want to chance it.

Peter opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again and tried to clear his throat. He did this twice before managing a low, “Hi love.”

Chasten didn’t realize he was crying until a tear fell onto the bedsheet, and Peter lightly pulled at his hand to make him sit on the bed with him. There were so many things he wanted to say and couldn’t, and he finally settled on, “I missed you so much.”

“I’m here.” 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Peter Paul.”

Peter tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sigh. The door opened again and Lis stepped in, holding a cup of ice chips. “The nurse said you wanted these and I wanted to say hi. Sorry to uh-break this up.”

Chasten took the cup from Lis, handing a single ice chip to Peter. He considered feeding it to him so he wouldn’t have to move, but realized Peter would literally rather go back into a coma than look so fragile, even if it was just Lis. 

“What happened?”

Chasten looked down at his husband, incredulous. “We are not talking about work yet. No.”

Peter pointedly ignored him and looked at Lis, but ran his finger across Chasten’s open palm. It didn’t reassure him, but he kept quiet and reached for another ice chip.

Lis had somehow turned back into a Chief of Staff while Chasten wasn’t looking. “Fucking Putin thought he was going to get revenge and start World War Three by blaming Turkey. Thought we’d believe this was in retaliation for defending the Kurds again. He’s getting stupid in his old age, CIA caught on within a day.”

Peter tried to sit up, but Chasten gently pushed him back down. “You are not President Buttigieg again yet. Lay down. It’s being handled.”

“How is Warren?”

“She’s great. You picked the right woman for the job. She sends her best, said she’ll call you once you’ve had time to rest.” 

Peter smiled slightly, then looked down. “Who else was hurt?”

The room got quiet, and Lis cleared her throat. “Twelve people didn’t make it, including Steve. There were...there were a lot more injuries, but they are recovering.”

Peter didn’t speak, and he stopped taking ice chips from Chasten. Finally, he said, “and the church?”

“It will be rebuilt.” 

Chasten didn’t realize he said it until everyone looked at him. He held onto Peter’s hand a little tighter. “This wasn’t your fault. We will rebuild it. It isn’t over. Everything will be okay. You’re here.”

He wasn’t talking about the church. He wasn’t really sure what he  _ was  _ talking about, specifically. But Peter’s eyes were a little bit brighter, so maybe he knew what Chasten was trying to say. 

“I’m here.”


End file.
